


The Way Forward

by SaxSpieler



Series: Verǫld Vǫrðr [19]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Spoilers, post-quest shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 19:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8636056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxSpieler/pseuds/SaxSpieler
Summary: After the final Ritual of Rejuvenation, Wahisietel, Akthanakos, and Kharshai watch over a comatose Finley and discuss what the future holds for all of them now that the marker no longer threatens them. Also, Wahi gets several visitors, some much less wanted than others…





	

**Author's Note:**

> My new favorite squad.
> 
> Spoilers for 'Children of Mah'

We watched Seren descend the mountain, a catatonic World Guardian in tow. Sometime during her tantrum and spat with Zaros, she angrily tossed Finley at Zamorak’s feet, the motion sending ash and dust into the already clogged air.

Finley made no move to get back to her feet. She simply grasped at the ash beneath her, shivering, eyes wide and staring at nothing. While Zamorak was distracted by the bickering, Kharshai ran forward and gathered Finley into his arms - the motion was so quick I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done the same thing before. With how long those two have known each other, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

I held Akthanakos back for the time being. I had to.

Azzanadra didn’t react at all.

Though, I swore I saw him smirk out of the corner of my eye.

***

Kharshai wanted to bring Finley back to Rellekka. I managed to convince him otherwise - I’d like to keep an eye on her for now. She now sleeps uneasily in my house in Nardah.

Akthanakos refuses to leave the bedside. He just sits, chuffing and rumbling in Finley’s ear, tracing the blue-ink tattoos on her shoulders and arms. Kharshai does his best to comfort him, to assure him that she’ll be alright.

“She’s Fremennik. She’ll pull through,” he said. I heard the doubt in his voice, however.

Something happened when she was with Seren, I’m sure of it. Something involving Mah.

To lighten the mood, I confessed my recently disproved disbelief of Mah’s existence - that seemed to get a chuckle out of both of them. For a moment, at least.

This house, built for one, now houses four, three of which are Mahjarrat. Human-formed Mahjarrat, but Mahjarrat nonetheless.

It’s very crowded.

***

I spent today washing my mouth out with whiskey.

Far too much whiskey, if I must admit.

Damn Zaros and his sway over our minds and loyalties. The words that fell from my mouth in his presence were hardly my own; they sounded far more in line with the sycophantic ramblings that spew from Azzanadra’s arse.

Damn that silk-wearing, spike-laden pontifex as well. My respect for him is slowly waning.

It was mid-afternoon when Kharshai suddenly left - not half an hour later, he returned with a keg of strong-smelling ale and three mugs.

“You have the right idea, Wahisietel,” he said, thunking the keg on the foot of the bed. “Now is the time for celebration.”

“Indeed.” I raised my glass in a toast, my voice slurring ever so slightly from the amount I had already drank. “No more rituals. A possibility for peace. What _better_ way to commemorate this than with several shots…?”

“You don’t sound terribly enthused.” It wasn’t a question.

I sighed, watching Kharshai tap himself a pint.

“I can’t say _what_ I am,” I said, pouring another nip. “It’s a strange feeling, not being bound by the marker hanging over my head. I’m not sure what to think about it at the moment.”

Kharshai downed his first pint in three good gulps and then tapped two more. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on a slight lilt, not terribly different from the one peppering Finley’s accent.

“Aye, I feel the same way as yourself, if I’m being honest.” Wordlessly, he nudged a full mug of ale over to Akthanakos, who finally stopped fussing over the arrangement of pillows under Finley’s head. “We have to be canny, no doubt, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy at the same time.”

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Akthanakos choked on his first swig of ale, to Kharshai’s amusement. I took that to mean he had never imbibed in alcohol before, which I wasn’t surprised about - he always did seem like more of a tea-drinker to me. Kharshai, in his infinite wisdom, encouraged him to keep chugging until the poor Mahjarrat-in-human-skin was teetering around the room like an one-legged dancer.

The ale and whiskey continued to flow for another hour.

That’s when all of us seemed to, simultaneously, lose control of our mouths.

“…where we were once defined - and protected by - our loyalties, we are now…lost, in a way. We no longer need Azzanadra, or Zaros, for that matter, to shield us from the marker - we no longer need to be ‘Zarosians.’”

“Brother, if Azzanadra heard you say that…Ha, what am I saying, I’d _love_ to see his reaction! Oh, the look on his face would be sight to behold!”

“He would be so _disappointed_ in me, wouldn’t he? Well, to the void with him and Zaros! Constantly pushing me aside, sweeping me under the rug as if I was a footnote in all this. I tell you,” I paused to work on what must have been my tenth nip, “when that pompous pontifex was stuck in that cursed pyramid, I was doing my damndest to keep Senntisten from crumbling to dust!”

“And Zaros completely forgets about you! Pah! I tell you-” Akthanakos very nearly fell off his chair as he tried to take another drink “-now that I’m shackled by the marker no longer, I…I’m going to forge my own path, whether Zaros wills it or not!”

“You two should join my club!” Kharshai thunked his mug on his knee, spraying ale over the three of us. “The club of Mahjarrat who-” he belched loudly “-don’t prostrate themselves to anyone!”

“We could!”

“We should!”

“AYE! WELCOME, BROTHERS!”

We downed our drinks in unison and cheered.

It was a while before any of us realized that there was a fourth person in the house. Thankfully - and I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible - she wasn’t roused by our drunken bellowing.

***

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of Akthanakos wailing.

First time drinking, first time with a hangover, I suppose.

I pulled him aside after he had quieted down and made it clear to him that the words said the previous night should not be thrown around idly, let alone around the likes of Azzanadra. Not until we know for sure the extent of the cease-fire caused by the final ritual, at least.

Of course, I will continue to support Zaros’ plans as long as they continue to be a logical step towards protecting this world - this universe - that we call home. However, it is refreshing to entertain the thought that, as I am now defined solely by my own power, will, and opinions, I can more freely object to less scrupulous plans.

Akthanakos seems to likewise enjoy the prospect of being able to forge his own path. I had the feeling that Azzanadra’s dismissive attitude towards anyone not named ‘Zaros’ was wearing on him as well.

After our chat, he returned to Finley’s bedside, still massaging his temples.

While we were talking, Kharshai had awoken and busied himself with braiding her hair out of her face as she slept. He was singing softly. A Fremennik ballad, I believe. I confess that my knowledge of the Fremennik dialect is a tad bit rusty, but I was able to pick out the subject matter of the ballad well enough.

_A weary warrior stands on a cliff. He watches the storm below him finally pass and make way for the sunrise. Though his bones are broken, his hands are stained with his own blood, and the cries of battle still ring strong in his ears, his mind is clear, and he knows the way forward._

Kharshai has a rather nice singing voice.

***

We had a visitor last night.

Two visitors, actually.

Hazeel and Khazard.

The former’s human shape was easy enough to recognize - horns that large are not easy to glamor away. The latter’s, I admit, I didn’t recognize at first - it was only until the _smell_ hit me that the fact it was Khazard registered in my mind.

Why, oh why, did he give himself bright red-orange hair? If it wasn’t nighttime, the townspeople would’ve seen him coming from a mile away…

“What’s your business here?” I asked, at least attempting not to wrinkle my nose at Khazard’s odor.

“I wish to speak with Kharshai. Word has it that he can be found here.”

“You heard correctly, Hazeel,” Kharshai called from behind me. “Come in, and we’ll talk.”

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three…_

_Four…_

_Five_ Mahjarrat stood in my ‘living room.’ We were almost shoulder-to-shoulder, and, for a moment, I was sure a fight was bound to break out. However, it seems that the truce called by the final ritual resonated well among all of us.

Well, most of us.

Hazeel left to speak with Kharshai in private, leaving Khazard alone with Akthanakos, the still comatose Finley, and I.

At first, he loitered about, looking bored and occasionally examining my home’s furnishings up close.

“You _live_ here?” he scoffed. “It’s so…small.”

“I do live here, as a matter of fact-NO, get away from that bookshelf, Khazard. Those are first editions, they are thousands of years old, and I risked my life several times to obtain all of them!” I shooed him away from my collection, and he laughed harshly.

“Risking your life for books? Ha! Wow, you are pathetic!” He pounded a fist against his chest, eyes blazing, daring me to confront him.

Petulant child, that one. I had, and perhaps still have, such respect for Zamorak as a fellow - well, _former_ \- legatus. Funny to think that he spawned this screaming, mercurial pile of soiled linens that calls itself a ‘general’ just because it can swing a sword and scare humans into following it around.

I folded my hands behind my back and returned his challenge with a smirk.

“At least I know how to do my own laundry, Khazard.”

Snorting, with no small amount of indignation warping his face, he left me alone and approached the bed.

Akthanakos’ warning snarl rattled the tea mugs on my desk.

Khazard, however, seemed emboldened by recent events, and payed no mind.

“How’s your…what is she to you, anyway? A plaything? A toy?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Akthanakos just bared his teeth broader in reply, and the sound he made actually hurt my ears.

“Hmph. Whatever. Za…my…Zamorak wishes her a timely recovery. I suggest she make that recovery as timely as possible - you know, with the endgame approaching soon and all. She’s a good asset, despite her shaky loyalties.”

Again, Akthanakos just ground his teeth.

“And…well,” Khazard continued, voice quieting, “she and I have yet to have that bareknuckle boxing match she challenged me to earlier…so, get her back on her feet, camel-man.”

I admit I chuckled at that.

Kharshai didn’t tell me much of what Hazeel said to him after those two left. From what I gather, though, it was more or less an assurance of cooperation and open dialogue. He seems happy at the prospect.

I think I am as well.

***

Akthanakos tried out new human forms today. All varieties of heights, builds, hair colors, and such.

“Akthanakos?”

“Yes?” He turned around, his latest shape a comparatively short and stocky man with bristly brown hair.

“Do that all you like, but make sure that you leave the house in the same form you entered with. I have some rather nosy neighbors, and I’d rather not rouse suspicions of shapeshifters.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, his hair growing to a curly, shoulder-length mop in an instant.

He’s restless and undecided, wanting to get on with his new life, but simultaneously wanting to wait for Finley to recover.

I told him to take a break - to go back to his oasis for a while and relax. He shook his head, even when I told him that Kharshai and I would look after her and send word when she comes back around.

I think I understand why he’s so attached to her, now.

She must have been the first person in a long time to treat him not as a god, a loyal follower of Zaros, or a Tribune to be ordered around, but as an individual with worth. She was much the same way with Azzanadra; though, whereas Azzanadra foams at the mouth at being seen for _who_ he is rather than _what_ he is, Akthanakos cherishes it.

They’re a strange pair, to be certain, but I am glad he finds joy in her company the way he does.

***

She’s awake. Finally.

Her eyes flicker, and she’s mostly unresponsive and unaware of her surroundings, but she takes food and drink well, if slowly.

For a moment, she seemed to acknowledge our presence, mouthing our names silently. Then, it was back to casting her eyes around at the shadows in the corners of the room.

I wonder what she sees there.

***

I am quite sure it wasn’t _him_ that she saw.

It happened in the middle of the night. Kharshai convinced Akthanakos, blessedly, to join him in vacating my house for the evening, and I had drifted off over a sheaf of transcription work. I awoke, however, when I felt the presence of another Mahjarrat in the room.

He was standing over the bed, gloves off, gently running his fingers through the sleeping Finley’s hair.

“So fragile, these humans,” he mumbled. “Even this one. A boot to her back, and she can no longer walk. A peek into the nightmares of an elder god, and she can no longer think straight.”

I stood, assuming my true form, and let my new power radiate through the room to ward him off.

Sliske, the snake, barely even flinched.

“That’s what happened, you know,” he continued, kneeling down and taking Finley’s hand in his own, massaging her knuckles. “Dear old Auntie Seren threw her into Mah’s nightmares. I can only imagine what she saw there.”

“What are you doing here, Sliske?” I asked, my voice little more than a low hiss. He smiled in response, chuckling slightly.

“Oh, come off it, _brother._ I’m simply checking up on my little warrior, here. She’s been through so much, lately.”

“Some of which was brought on by yourself, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Ah, yes. _That.”_ His smile faded, and his hand tightened around Finley’s wrist, claws sinking slightly into her skin. “Don’t remind me.”

I stepped forward and yanked him up by his stupidly large collar, pulling him away from the bed.

“I will remind you of the pain you’ve caused the lot of us as often as I like.”

He smiled again, less cordially this time, and patted my cheek, his fingers leaving speckles of Finley’s blood behind.

“Pain? You assume to speak for everyone I’ve ever met? Ha! Some might find my company rather pleasurable, you know.”

Oh, how I wanted to tear that smile from his face and wring his neck in that moment…

I settled for furrowing my brow.

“Not _me._ And not Finley. Now, get out.”

After a moment, he shrugged.

“Very well. Give my regards to Finley when she awakes.”

With that, he was gone, his form flickering back into the Shadow Realm.

I wiped the blood from my cheek, bandaged Finley’s wrist, and waited for morning.

I couldn’t go back to sleep

***

I didn’t mention Sliske’s visit to Kharshai and Akthanakos when they returned in the morning. Instead, I sat with Kharshai on the edge of Nardah, smoking my pipe.

I asked him, since he didn’t spout it out during out drunken ‘celebration,’ what he planned on doing now that our rituals were a thing of the past.

“Travel. Explore. Get away from it all, I suppose,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers through the sand. “Of course, the Fremennik are a family to me, and I will continue to visit them, but I feel that this universe has much more to offer than what I can find here on Gielinor. I wish to see as much as I can.”

“Hm. A vacation would do you good, I think.”

“Aye, a vacation.” He chuckled. “You could call it that. What will you do?”

I admit I hadn’t given it much thought.

Blowing a smoke ring, I pieced together a response.

“I will stay here, in Nardah, and continue to try and reach Azzanadra. Over the years, I’ve proven to be about ninety percent of his impulse control - the least I can do for him is to ensure that he doesn’t end up destroying what the rest of us are trying to keep safe.”

Kharshai nodded, patting me on the shoulder. A very human gesture - one that made me smile a bit, despite myself.

“Then I wish you luck, brother.”

***

Finley seems to have recovered.

She’s awake and lucid again, though considerably less talkative than she usually is.

Nevertheless, Akthanakos is nothing short of elated, and his joy’s rubbed off on the rest of us. It’s odd how accustomed I’ve become to having housemates again. Odd, yet not unwelcome.

Kharshai said something interesting, I remember, after Finley asked him why the three of us had crammed ourselves into this tiny house during her recovery.

“You should know by now that shield-siblings never abandon each other. More than that, you are a friend to me. To us. More of a friend than we deserve, at times.”

Friendship beyond that found in solidarity in a movement or a religion has evaded our kind for too long. However, it seems to be coming back. Slowly, and brought by an unexpected herald, but surely.

If anything, it gives me something to look forward to, genuinely, in the future.

And, that’s more I can say than for most things.

***

_Four weary warriors stand on a cliff. They watch the storm below them finally pass and make way for the sunrise. Though their bones are broken, their hands are stained with their own blood, and the cries of battle still ring strong in their ears, their minds are clear, and they know the way forward._


End file.
